Too Many Blues Beck

I have many blues
But these are my main blues
'Cause of the things you do
I get these blues from you

If I could write a book
You'd burn and let it cook
If I could duck and hide
You would bite off my thigh

I got a collection
Of constant rejection
I try not to mention
Your bad intention

You don't have a cure
Your life is too secure
My life is still a blur
I didn't know what you were

But I'm happy to tell it
You probably smell it
Smoke from a burning pit
Where all our memories sit